


The Try Guys Try: Gay Chicken

by eleanor_lavish



Category: Buzzfeed (The Try Guys)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Canon Gay Character, Gay Chicken, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3070184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think Keith gets so overenthusiastic about free muffins in the breakroom that he makes half the floor join him in song. I’m frankly terrified of how he’s going to tackle something where his dick may be involved. In a sexy way, I mean,” Zach clarifies.</p><p>“The point of gay chicken is that it’s <i>not sexy</i>,” Eugene reminds them. “It’s awkward as shit for everyone until one person decides it’s just too awkward to continue.”</p><p>“And you think Keith will hit that level of awkward before you do?” Ned asks skeptically. “Okay, dude, you keep telling yourself that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Try Guys Try: Gay Chicken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schuyler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schuyler/gifts).



> For my best girl Schuyler, who deserves nice things.
> 
> Unbeta'd, because it's NYE and I'm impatient.

“I really should be able to sit this one out,” Eugene gripes, tossing his hat onto the table and glaring at all of them. 

Ned looks up from his phone, grinning. “What, you think we can’t beat you at your own game, Yang?”

“I think that Gay Chicken is a terrible game and we’re going to get hate mail, and no, I don’t think you can beat me at gay chicken, because I am _actually gay._ ”

“I’m not sure,” Zach says, “I mean, you’re pretty easy to fluster.”

“Wha - I am _not_ easy to fluster!” Eugene says, hands on his hips. 

“You are, you’re grumpy and easy to fluster,” Ned nods. “You’re grumster. Flumpy?”

“Flumpy,” Zach agrees. Eugene hates all of his friends. “Besides, Ned’s wife gave him a hall pass for this one, and I have literally nothing to lose. Not even my dignity, after the last year with you assholes.”

Ned leans on the table, his head propped on one hand as they wait for the camera guys to finish setting up. “I mean, I wouldn’t bet against me, but Keith probably has this one in the bag.”

Eugene looks at him sharply. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means he’s both the happiest man alive and the the guy most likely to freak us all out with his enthusiastic gay makeouts.” 

“Wait, you think he’ll beat _me_ at enthusiastic gay makeouts?” Eugene is kind of baffled by this whole thing.

“I think Keith gets so overenthusiastic about free muffins in the breakroom that he makes half the floor join him in song. I’m frankly terrified of how he’s going to tackle something where his dick may be involved. In a sexy way, I mean,” Zach clarifies.

“The point of gay chicken is that it’s _not sexy_ ,” Eugene reminds them. “It’s awkward as shit for everyone until one person decides it’s just too awkward to continue.”

“And you think Keith will hit that level of awkward before you do?” Ned asks skeptically. “Okay, dude, you keep telling yourself that.”

Keith chooses that moment to swan into the room in a ridiculous sweater with a cat on it and a huge smile on his face. “Okay, gentlemen, who thinks they’re ready for this jelly?” he practically yells.

Eugene _really_ hates his friends sometimes.

*

In the end, they set it up like the world’s tiniest March Madness competition, where Eugene is paired with Zach and Keith is paired with Ned. The winners of each Gay Chicken primary competition moves on to the SUPREME GAY CHICKEN FINAL EVENT, as Ashley keeps calling it over the studio loudspeaker. The rules stipulate no naked dicks (they’re a bitch to edit out, they’ve found), no forced removal of other people’s clothes, and the first time someone says ‘stop’ the action stops, and also they have lost. Eugene knows this isn’t the usual frat house variety of the game, mostly because they have literally all kissed men before, either for comedy or “you know, college!!” as Keith reported with a shrug. 

They’re all going to have to bring their A-games to this one.

Eugene wins against Zach with a little more difficulty than anticipated - apparently Zach really doesn’t have much to lose and also honestly doesn’t mind being naked in front of the crew anymore, because he strips to his skivvies before Eugene even gets his tongue in Zach’s mouth. The tongue-in-mouth action is also better than anticipated, and Eugene pulls out his secret weapon to winning Gay Chicken - he moans like he’s actually into it. (Which he kind of is, because Zack isn’t his type by a long shot, but hey, nearly naked boys all up in Eugene’s personal space equals some definite interest from little Eugene.) As anticipated, one “oh, fuck baby, yes,” muttered into Zach’s mouth is all it takes for him to pull back, his face beet red, and announce that, “playing Gay Chicken with a gay dude was possibly something I should have thought through more.”

Eugene is rightfully smug.

After that, he’s banished to the break room until Keith and Ned are done. (“No unfair advantages! They didn’t get to watch yours!” Ashley informs him imperiously, and when the hell did they put Ashley in charge of this? Eugene doesn’t remember that happening, but Ashley has claimed Gay Chicken Day as her own and Eugene is too scared of her to challenge that.) Ned emerges twenty minutes later looking shell-shocked. “Hey, how’d it -”

“I have to call my wife,” Ned croaks, and Eugene tilts his head and surreptitiously listens in as Ned hits speed dial on his way to the men’s room. “Honey, I know you said all-access hall pass, but some things… I mean. Oh god,” he says as the door closes behind him. He looks up and Ashley is grinning wolfishly from the doorway.

“Keith won. By, like, a landslide. You’re up, pretty boy.”

Eugene just rolls his eyes at her and puts his coffee mug in the sink. “Let’s get this over so I can collect the Gay Chicken trophy in the name of all denizens of Gaytopia, and also I can get home in time to watch So You Think You Can Dance.”

“Oh, fuck, I forgot to set my DVR!” Ashley groans and Eugene ‘tsks’ in disappointment.

*

Keith doesn’t look like a man who just crushed Ned in Gay Chicken. In fact, he’s still wearing all of his clothes, and his hair isn’t even messed up. Eugene’s isn’t either but that’s because he refused to take his hat off, even when Zach was all up in his grill.

“Yo, Habersberger, you want to concede before you embarrass yourself?” Eugene says loudly as he marches into the room. It’s a little showy, but hey. Eugene’s feeling pretty good about his chances on this one, and also he’s sometimes a bit of an asshole.

“Baby, I am ready to ride this gay train over the rainbow bridge to the end of the line in Mansville,” Keith says, grinning widely, and Eugene laughs despite himself.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” he says, tugging off his hipster grandpa sweater and rolling his shoulders back. After a moment of hesitation, he takes off the hat too, running his fingers through his hair. He knows Keith gets flustered by his Asian flow.

“Oh, you’re such the romantic,” Keith kids, and he’s not doing anything all all, just standing in front of the white backdrop, waiting for Eugene to come and out-gay him. Eugene is impressed by his confidence, but that’s not new. Keith exudes this charming, doofy sort of confidence in everything he does. It’s what makes him great at things that should fill Eugene with second-hand embarrassment, and instead fill him with actual joy. Keith’s what makes the Try Guys seem like a great idea, even when each great idea involves a lot of ridiculous bullshit.

Looking at Keith right now, who is watching Eugene approach with a stupid grin while _waggling his eyebrows_ , Eugene thinks that maybe Gay Chicken wasn’t such a terrible thing. Eugene just has to keep from laughing too hard at Keith’s muppet face. “We’re rolling,” Sam calls from behind the camera, and Eugene stops in front of Keith. They already did the Q&A portion that will be edited into footage of the actual Gay Chicken battle rounds, so there’s no preamble planned. Keith scrunches up his nose a little and says, “Hey, you’re pretty.”

“Hey, you aren’t so bad yourself,” Eugene replies, and he can do an eyebrow waggle with the best of them. Keith just laughs, delighted, and Eugene _hates_ that he’s so adorable. How does a 6’3” man with a muppet face manage that level of cute? Eugene sighs. “C’mere, let’s see what you’ve got, big boy,” he says, planning an over-the-top attack.

“What, we’re skipping all the foreplay?” Keith quips, and Eugene tilts his head.

“You too _chicken_ for the main event?”

“Ooooh, puns,” Keith grins, “and no, I’m just pretty good at the foreplay stuff, so I’m worried skipping it will remove my obvious advantage.”

Eugene has to stop thinking Keith is adorable. He _must_. “Sure, buddy, foreplay me up, if that’ll help you sleep tonight.” He puts his arms out in a general ‘come at me, bro’ gesture, but Keith seems to interpret that as a ‘run your hands down Eugene’s sides slowly and lean in to kiss his neck’ gesture. Those rarely get confused, so Eugene is startled - or so he tells himself when he squeaks.

“You okay?” Keith asks, his lips buzzing over the shell of Eugene’s ear. “You look a little flushed.” He sounds gleeful. Eugene is definitely a little flushed - Keith’s hands are settled like a firm weight on his hips and his mouth is, frankly, obscene, which Eugene has noticed before - but he’s also a little indignant. Eugene has had _actual naked dicks_ touching him on _multiple occasions_ ; he is not going get _flumpy_ , or whatever, at some middle school makeout bullshit.

The rule of gay chicken is that turnabout is hella fair play, so Eugene one ups Keith by nuzzling his cheek and slipping his fingers under the hem of Keith’s stupid sweater so that his fingertips brush Keith’s stomach. He feels the jump of muscles against his hand. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice dripping with faux concern. “If this is too much we can just -”

“No, that’s. Good. Go ahead,” Keith says, and there’s a weird hitch in his voice. Eugene chalks it up to Keith being one nipple tweak away from crying uncle. To test his theory, he flattens his palm over Keith’s stomach and slides his hand up slowly, nosing at Keith’s neck as he feels Keith’s breaths speed up. When he reaches the general nipple area, he spreads his fingers apart until the middle one catches on the nub of Keith’s right nipple. Keith’s gasp is quiet enough that Eugene’s not sure the cameras will have picked it up. 

Eugene heard it, though. Felt it, deep in his gut. His own dick twitches in response, the fucking traitor. He thinks about tweaking Keith’s nipple for real, making Keith laugh and getting them back on some solid ground. But this game isn’t about solid ground - it’s about feeling off-kilter in a serious way. So instead he moves his hand until he can just ghost his thumb over it, back and forth a few times with a nice gentle pressure. “Eugene,” Keith whispers, “can I?” His fingers are restless on Eugene’s hips, and Eugene nods, unthinking. Keith’s hands bunch in his shirt, tugging it up just enough to slide inside, palms big and warm on Eugene’s back. It’s… intimate, close, and Eugene is suddenly a little dizzy from it. He needs to move this along, get them out of this warm hazy place where they’re just _touching_ , jar them enough that Keith tips over the edge into uncomfortable. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, still sort of unwilling to break the spell that’s fallen over them. Keith looks down at him, his eyes impossibly dark, and Eugene leans up on his toes to kiss him. He makes it wet, makes it dirty, slips his tongue along Keith’s. He tastes like mint and sugar, like he’d sucked on a peppermint before coming in here to gay it up with Eugene, even though coming in smelling of garlic noodles would have been a better game plan. It’s so fucking considerate - so fucking _Keith_ \- that Eugene groans a little into his mouth. He’s massively surprised when that groan is answered and Keith pulls him tight, one hand cupping the back of Eugene’s head to kiss him deeper. 

Eugene isn’t always a big fan of kissing. It’s messy and sometimes there’s that ‘garlic noodles’ issue, and there’s stubble burn on his lips after. But this time, he gets lost in it, in the gentle give-and-take as Keith’s tongue moves against his, the tiny breaths they both take before diving back in greedily, the way Keith’s body keeps folding in, trying to get closer to Eugene’s. Keith’s fingers are in his hair now, twisting but not enough to sting, and when he scrapes his teeth over Eugene’s bottom lip, Eugene just arches into him with a shiver and a stifled cry. 

That’s when he feels Keith’s dick, hard against his hip, and feels his own, pressed against Keith’s thigh. He’s shifting his hips into Keith, trying to get any kind of friction, and Keith is pulling him closer, one hand nearly on Eugene’s ass, grinding them together. Eugene could come like this; fuck, if this keeps going, Eugene is _going to come like this_ , in his pants, for Keith Habersberger and his yeti hands and his minty kisses and his stupid, happy _face_. And he knows if he does, it’s going to make things so awkward with Keith, it’s going to let Keith see how much Eugene has been trying really hard not to feel about this guy, this guy who is _so not Eugene’s type_ , and he can’t. He can’t fuck up his friendship with Keith because he’s stupid enough to sometimes get crushes on straight guys, and then sometimes extra stupid about making bets that he can beat them at gay chicken while on camera.

 _While on camera_.

Eugene pulls back like he’s been stung, and sure enough, there’s Ashley in the middle of the room, her mouth hanging open like a fish, and Sam behind the camera, and some guy who started last week whose name Eugene doesn’t even know yet holding the boom mic. “Fuck, I can’t- I can’t,” he manages and pulls back out of Keith’s arms. He sees Keith’s eyes open up wide, blinking at the lights of the room, but Eugene can’t keep looking, can’t see that moment when realization dawns. He grabs his messenger bag and heads out the door, down the hall and out to his car in under two minutes, and he’s already pulling onto the freeway when his phone buzzes. He pulls it out, thinking that it’s got to be Keith, not knowing what the hell to say to him, but his stomach swoops with some awful kind of disappointment when it’s not Keith. It’s Ashley.

“omg are you okay?????” she texts, followed by a bunch of slightly insane, wide-eyed emojis.

“tell kb congrats on his big win,” he types one-handed, grimly hating himself and buzzfeed and Keith for playing so fucking dirty.

“keith left already,” she answers. “AND DO NOT TYPE WHILE DRIVING, MORON.”

“then do not text me while im driving!” he shoots back and tosses his phone onto the passenger seat. He sits back, his heart rate finally slowing to something approaching normal, and realizes that his face is still flushed, that his dick is still hard in his jeans, that his mouth still tastes like an oversized midwestern muppet with the best soul in the fucking universe. 

Apparently he can no longer ignore the fact that Keith is everything Eugene actually wants - a nice guy with a great sense of humor and warm hugs and worried frowns when Eugene drinks too much and a dick that is impressive if he’s a shower and staggering if he’s a grower. He’s disgusted to realize that he’s actually spent a good deal of time thinking about Keith’s dick, and Keith’s hands and Keith’s hugs, enough that he clearly has feelings that he wasn’t dealing with at all, not until Keith’s tongue was in his mouth. _Well, that’s great_ , he thinks to himself and slams his hand into the steering wheel a few times. 

*

He’s home about two and a half glasses of wine, so possibly close to forty-five minutes, when there’s a tentative knock on his door. He staunchly ignores it. It’s three in the afternoon on a Thursday, and Eugene doesn’t feel like being sold insurance or religion right now. But a few moments later there’s another one, followed by a tentative “Hey, um - it’s me?” from the muppet himself.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eugene mutters to himself. Maybe he can ignore Keith too, pretend he’s not home -

“I know you’re home, I saw your car in the lot. I actually parked next to it, for, like a half an hour, trying to figure out if I should come up here or not -”

Eugene thumps his head into the back of the couch a few times and levers himself up. If he leaves Keith out there, his neighbors are bound to hear the _entire story_. Sure enough, when he swings the door open, he spots Mrs. Lee peeking through her kitchen window in the apartment across the way. Keith’s mouth snaps shut, and he doesn’t smile. It’s weird, looking at Keith’s face when it’s not smiling. Eugene doesn’t like it.

“You’re not smiling,” he says, and Keith frowns harder.

“Are you drunk? Did you manage to get drunk in the time I was dithering in the car?”

“You use the word _dithering_ , Jesus,” Eugene groans, because that should be so fucking lame - it _is_ lame - but also charming. Keith sighs.

“This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry. I’m sorry for this and for the other, before, thing. I just. I knew, but I didn’t really know, I guess?”

“Fuck,” Eugene rubs at his face. Only Keith would apologize for Eugene’s terrible Keith-crush making things weird at the most inopportune moment. “I know. I mean, I didn’t know. But now I guess it’s pretty obvious,” he says, trying for sheepish and ending up in fucking pathetic territory. _I didn’t even know I had a crush on you! You clearly knew before I did but you never said anything because you’re too nice!_

“Right, that’s. Yeah,” Keith says, and he looks like he’s trying not to cry a little, right there on Eugene’s doorstep, because Eugene was a jackass.

“No, hey, come in,” he says, moving aside so Keith can come in to the apartment and not cry in front of Mrs. Lee.

“Sorry, fuck, sorry,” Keith says again, and Eugene sighs, closing the door behind him.

“Dude, just. Stop apologizing.” He walks over to the kitchen and picks up his more-than-half-empty wine bottle. “Do you want a drink, if we’re doing this?”

“No, it’s not quite happy hour anywhere yet,” Keith tells him sternly, “so I’ll pass.”

“Fine,” Eugene says, but he’s definitely going to have more wine, if this is actually happening.

Keith leans back against the kitchen counter, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He won’t meet Eugene’s eyes, which makes his stomach do that terrible swooping thing again. Eugene’s not sure he can do this job with Keith not even _looking_ at him anymore. “It’ll be fine, at work,” Keith says, like a mind reader. “I mean, I’m going to get over it eventually. At least that’s what my mom said when I told her about it.” Keith squints his eyes closed for a minute. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you that I tell my mom when I have romantic feelings for people. That probably does not help my cause.”

Eugene pauses in pouring himself a new glass, the wine bottle tipped precariously in his hand. “You… what?”

“I told her, that I have, you know. Feelings. For you.”

Eugene puts the bottle down slowly. “You have feelings for me,” he says flatly, because _what the actual fuck is happening_?

“I thought that was pretty obvious? You said it was obvious.”

“When?”

“Just _now_. Like, at your door. You said ‘well I didn’t know, but I guess it’s pretty obvious that Keith got a massive boner while we made out in front of friends and strangers!’”

“No, I absolutely don’t remember saying that last part!”

“That last part was heavily implied,” Keith says, his hands going to his hips in exasperation.

“Wait, I don’t -” Eugene’s head feels like it’s going to explode from crossed wires. Keith has feelings for him. Like, romantic feelings. _Dick feelings._ That is really, really far outside where Eugene’s brain has been all afternoon. He stumbles about for something to make sense of this. “What about your girlfriend?” is what his mouth settles on, and he wants to hit himself in the face when Keith winces.

“We broke up?”

“I know you broke up, we all know you broke up,” Eugene almost-snaps. Keith’s girlfriend had not had the LA thing pan out and ended up back in Chicago six months ago, and Keith broke it off with her since the first round of long-distance romance had been so hellish on them both. It had been awful at the Buzzfeed office for weeks with Keith being fake-cheerful all over them. “She was a girl, though. I remember that part.”

“That’s - yes. My girlfriend was a girl.” Keith looks honestly confused now, and Eugene is fucking thankful he’s not alone.

“Which implies to me that you like girls,” Eugene says slowly.

“I do like girls,” Keith says. “I also like boys. I just haven’t ever dated one.”

“But you want to date me?” Eugene asks, just to be _totally clear_. Keith blushes, which is something Eugene has seen maybe twice ever, and both of those times hot drag queens were involved. 

Eugene wonders if that should have been a clue.

“I don’t - I mean I _do_ , but I’m not expecting that. I wasn’t going to - I mean I know you can do better than this,” he says, waving a hand in front of his body, “so I was just going to pine from afar. And then -”

“And then someone suggested we all try gay chickening each other.” Eugene finishes, and Keith sighs heavily.

“Yeah, that really put a crimp in my pining from afar plan. To be fair, I thought you’d be too grossed out to seriously make out with me enough for it to lead to _boners_.”

“You - it wasn’t gross,” Eugene spits out, annoyed at Keith for both their sakes. “It was very much not gross, Keith, and in case you were not paying attention there was more than one dick interested in this afternoon’s activities.”

“Yeah, I was paying attention to that,” Keith mutters, flushing harder, and Eugene groans.

“Are we seriously having a fight about how you have a thing for me when I literally just realized I also have a thing for you?”

“You - no you don’t,” Keith tells him and Eugene glares.

“I will thank you not to tell me who I do and do not want to make out with, Habersberger.”

“You want to make out with _me_?” Keith says, incredulous, and Eugene - because he is sometimes an asshole - says,

“Sure, I’d love to,” and promptly sticks his tongue in Keith’s mouth. 

There’s a moment where neither of them breathe, and then Keith whimpers a little and Eugene growls a little and they’re a mess of hands and lips and tongues, fingers sliding into hair and tugging on belt loops, one of Eugene’s legs wrapping around the back of Keith’s thigh. They break apart long enough for Eugene to tug Keith over to the couch and push him onto it, straddling his legs and leaning in for more. 

“Wait, wait,” Keith says a few long minutes later. His hands are up the back of Eugene’s shirt again, fingers pressing in to his skin as Eugene sucks a glorious bruise onto his chest. 

“Hmm,” Eugene hums against Keith’s skin, and smiles when Keith shivers underneath him.

“I just - you’re not drunk right?”

Eugene pulls back, annoyed. “I’ve had less than three glasses of wine.”

“So…,” 

“No, I’m not drunk,” he says, and he sounds pretty grumpy, which appears to confirm his soberness to Keith.

“And you still want to do this?” Keith asks. Keith is looking up at him, his mouth swollen and red, his hair a ridiculous mess, his shirt rucked up to his armpits. Eugene’s heart seizes up even as he wants to smack Keith in the arm.

Eugene grinds down into Keith’s lap, then leans forward so his denim-clad dick is pressed in a hard line across Keith’s abdomen. “Remember when we talked earlier about things being obvious?” he says, grinning.

“I know,” Keith say, all earnestness and still-minty breath, even though that’s not as nice after most of a bottle of pinot. “But we clearly were not picking up on those obvious things before, so.”

“So,” Eugene says, sitting back on Keith’s thighs. “Let’s do this thing. One, you’re apparently a secret bisexual.”

“Not so secret, but definitely yes,” Keith nods.

“Okay. Two, you have romantic feelings for me that are strong enough that you talked to your mom about it.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that, but yes.”

Eugene feels a smile creeping across his face and he can’t fucking help it. He doesn’t look sexy when he smiles, dammit, but Keith doesn’t seem to care, so, “Good. Three, I also apparently have romantic feelings for you, which I have been repressing very well, but which I was unable to repress today.”

“I told you not to underestimate my foreplay skillz,” Keith says, and Eugene can _hear_ the ‘z’ at the end of it.

“Ugh, no. I mean, yes, your foreplay skills are pretty great,” he concedes. “But you are still the whitest boy ever to white, and you should remember that.”

“Duly noted,” Keith says, grinning widely at him. “Is there a four?”

“I think four is agreeing that we definitely want more than just orgasms. Also, that we should probably call Buzzfeed later today and make sure we still have jobs.”

“Definitely more than just orgasms on my end.” Keith leans in to kiss his cheek in a way that should be cheesy, but just makes Eugene want to melt. God, dating Keith is going to make Eugene lose literally all his hard-earned bitchy gay street cred.

“Good, excellent communicating, gold stars for us,” he sighs happily as Keith’s hands slide into his hair and pull him in closer for another kiss.


End file.
